How do four years pass in the blink of an eye? That's what I wonder as I sit alongside the hallowed ground of The Plain, a wide, flat, manicured lawn on the grounds of the United States Military Academy at West Point, New York. Story goes that, of all the expanses of green grass in this great country, only that at the White House costs more to maintain. On this Friday morning, The Plain is groomed to perfection and green as an emerald, having just seen five consecutive days of rain. But there will be no rain this day, not during this parade. The lead-grey skies are cracking open to reveal patches of hazy blue, as if God himself smiled down from the heavens and said, "These young soldiers have endured enough these past 47 months. No need to march them through the mud at graduation. Let's make this a day to celebrate." And celebrate they would, this West Point Class of 2011. Just over a thousand of the nation's finest men and women, and yes, I'm proud to count my son among them. As we wait for the first bugle note to echo across this lush space, I'm remembering another morning very much like this one: July 2nd, 2007. R-Day, in West Point parlance. Reception Day.

The Snooper ReportJoin us as we Take Our Country BackSic vis pacem para bellumFight Accordingly

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